Your Houses!
by Queen Readalot
Summary: What was going on in Mercutio's head as he was dying? Here is an attempted journey into his thoughts from the moment he gets stabbed by Tybalt to his chilling last words. Play-based, set in Act 3, scene 1. Use of script-language,written as a monologue


(**A/N**: Hi! Yes, it's a Shakespeare one. I've always felt Mercutio is an awesome character, and I was upset when he died as he did :( An English project gave me the chance to get inside his head, and I'm proud to present my attempt at his character below. This basically a monologue, soliloquy-type thing that goes on in Mercutio's head from the moment he's stabbed to right before he's taken offstage by Benvolio. It's his thoughts and feelings as he's dying, in attempted Shakespearian English. Enjoy! :D

**Disclaimer: **Romeo and Juliet belong to William Shakespeare, but I plan to lay a claim on Mercutio :). All dialogue here is written by me except those which are taken directly out of the play, which again belong to Mr. Shakespeare.

Your Houses!

Act III, scene i

(_Enter __**Mercutio**__)_

**Mercutio: **Doth the blade mean to feel this way?

It sliced through my chest as if it had been parchment,

Without mercy, without thought, without regret.

Do blades regret? If so, then none more than I.

Did the pain meant to have gone by now?

I know not, and I like it not either.

'Tis not what I expected, this duel.

Had I known that I would lose against the rat-catcher,

Tybalt, curse him and his house, with his nine lives,

I would not have fought.

Nay, that is wrong. Fought, I would have,

For the heat makes men's blood boil,

And I am no different.

I cursed their houses, the Capulets and the Montagues,

As the blade entered my chest.

Doth the pain not end? Shouldn't it cease now?

Good Benvolio asks if I am hurt.

Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.

The blood pools my hands like the River Styx drains the life out of the dead.

I am in need of a surgeon, no doubt.

This much I said; as I watch my life's blood pour out.

Is it not enough? Blood, I bid thee halt.

'Tis only a scratch. A scratch shalt not do a thing.

Only a scratch.

Doth Romeo not understand that even a scratch causes pain?

No Romeo, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a

church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve.

Ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man.

Grave! Those cursed households shall send me to my grave!

Tybalt, the king of cats, hath done me away,

I shall kick the bucket, the stool, that fiend's rear.

The last option especially appeals to me.

Curse you, Tybalt! Thou roguish fool!

Thou fobbing, onion-eyed, death-token!

The list is never-ending, may you go the same as I,

I wish all my pain upon you.

And Romeo, foolish, foolish Romeo.

Does thou not understand that this feud cannot, will not, cease?

Dost thou now cower in a womanish fear?

Or dost thou believe that attempting to reason with Capulets shall end this?

If so, there is much thou dost not understand.

Curse you, Romeo, whatever your intentions.

Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm!

My friend. A faithful friend I shall need to find,

But not one who finds fate fickle.

What am I thinking? These are not my thoughts.

My words are wittier than this. What has happened?

God, I am dying. Ready to depart, I am not.

Take Tybalt, take Romeo, but take me not!

(_Pauses)_

This is my fate?

Is this really the destiny that was laid upon me?

Me, the dreamer who often lies,

The enemy of sorrow and woe,

The lover of joy, of laughter,

The Prince of Wit?

If 'tis what was written in the stars, than there is naught I can do about it.

Help me into some house, Benvolio.

Or I shall faint. This, no-one must witness.

Mercutio is not weak. Never, not even at the end.

Let my words be known. Let the world know that Mercutio has not lost his touch.

Mercutio, the Prince of wit and words. Me.

A plague o' both your houses! They have made worm's meat of me.

I have had it, and soundly too.

Capulet! Montague! No such name holds importance for me now.

Nor any name do I curse as much as thine.

Nay, that blade surely does not feel as much regret as I.

Your houses!

END

(**A/N: **What do you think? Reviews are much appreciated. Thanks to all! :D)


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